An Artist in Crime.

Southern Cross, Volume 2, Issue 16, 21 July 1894, Page 13

An Artist in Crime.

(By Roderigues Ottolengui.)

[Copyright.)

Synopsis of Previous Chapters : ■ Two friends, Arthur Randolph and Robert Leroy Mitehel, while travelling from Boston to New York, have a discussion as to the usefulness of the detective force. Mitchel wagers that he will commit a crim* and escape detection for a given period. Barnesa famous detective, overhears the conver, sation. At a later stage in the journey a lady is robbed of her jewels, and all the passengers except Mitchel aliothemselves to be searched. Mitchel ultimately allows himself to be searched, but without result. The woman who claimed to have lost the jewels was soon after found murdered in her bedroom during the night. Two men were seen leaving the place during the evening—Mitchel being one of them. Mr Barnes discovers a clue. A trap is laid for Mr Mitchel, who comes through the ordeal successfully, leaving Mr Barnes very much where he was before. Mr Barnes follows up the button clue, but without success. Mr Thauret re-appears on the scene, and Mr Barnes is ixKfoduced to Mr Mitchel’s sweetheart. The female detective proves to be no match for Mr Mitchel. The diaries of his other assistants lead Mr Barnes to make another move. Mr Barnes attends an entertainment given by Mr Yan Rawlston. Miss Remsen is robbed of her ruby pin, but Mr Barnes is unable to detect the thief. Mr Mitchel “ Shows his hand ” a little, but Mr Barnes is still off the track. With the assistance of Mr Randolph he lays another trap for Mr Mitchel, who relates the history of the ruby. Mr Barnes makes a fruitless journey, and 3lr Randolph has an important conversation with Miss Uora Remsen. CHAPTER XIY (continued). It was about a month after the conversation related, when a somewhat similar one occurred between the same young lady and Mr Thauret. He had called one afternoon, when Dora was alone, and so he had the field to himself. He spoke to her of all those things which he had found most interesting to her, and she was enjoying his society very much, when suddenly, as twilight approached and the room grew slightly darkened, he began to touch upon a more tender theme. He spoke of himself, of the wandering life that he had led, of the fact that he was alone in the world, without a liviug relative. He mentioned, as though it were of no importance, that he was of noble blood. Then he drew a touching picture of a man who, whilst really of a most affectionate nature, was compelled to live a loveless life, because there was none to whom he could turn for that sort of comfort. Then he asked her gently, very gently, whether she had ever thought upon the subject herself, and whether she had ever felt a yearning for the companionship of one who would be all in all to her. His pleading w r as very pretty to listen to, and she heard him as though much impressed, but - her reply was not exactly what he evidently hoped it would have been.

‘ Oh, yes,’ said she, ‘ I have thought of all that in a vague sort of way. But, you see, I have been in love with my beautiful Queen, for so long that I cannot imagine a life without her. And yet’ —there was tremour in her voice— 4 I am going to lose her soon. She will go away for a while, and then I fancy I can feel that loneliness of which you speak. So, if you want t® hear my real ideas upon the subject you must wait till after the wedding/ She said this last with a tone of deep meaning, and Mr Thauret seemed to accept this as a hint, for he changed the subject. Shortly afterwards he went away. As he walked down the avenue, there was almost a triumphant smile on his face. This, however, was not reported to Mr Barnes, for the spy was behind and could not see his face. It was only a few nights after this that Mr Mitchel was walking home from the club, accompanied by Mr Thauret, when the latter turned the conversation upon the Miss Bemsens.

‘ They certainly are charming girls,’ said he, - hut one would .need to be rich to afford the luxury of marrying one of them. I suppose they have nothing until the death of their mother.’ Mr Mitchel thought that he understood the object of the question, and for reasons of his own was glad to reply to it. • * Oh, not at all,’ said he. ‘ The father left each of them a handsome sum, fifty thousand, in fact, which they are to receive as soon as married. The bulk of the money of course, went to the widow, but her interest is only for life,, and then it is to be equally divided among the girls. I think it is somewhere near half a million. ‘ Tou are a fortunate fellow. I wish I had your luck.’ ‘My dear Thauret, can a man of your intelligence believe in such a stupid thing as luck P It no more exists than its antithesis, ill luck. Every man succeeds or not, according to his own skill in guiding his life How you envy me my marriage to Emily, when certainly her sister Dora is just as charming, and richer, too.’ ‘ Miss Dora is charming, true; but that does not make me a successful suitor. But what do yon mean by saying that she is richer ?’ ‘ Why, you see, her sister is devoted to her, and has promised her a gift of ten thousand dollars the day she marries, upon one condition/ “ And that condition is ?’ ‘ That the husband shall he satisfactory to her.’ There was a silence for several minutes, finally broken by Mr Thauret : “ Well, in the light of your approaching marriage, which will make you the only man in the family, I presume your influence would count. If I should wish to marry Miss Dora, I suppose you would favour my suit?’ ‘That is not a new idea to me, I assure you. All I need say is that when you gain- Dora’s consent, you shall have mine.’

‘ Thank you.’ Mr Thanret said this with suppressed emotion, and after that neither man spoke till they said good-night at Mr Mitchel’s hotel. Mr Thanret, upon entering his room, smoked a cigar, and blew little ringlets overhead, thus occupying himself till long after midnight. He seemed to be building castles, and from the satisfied expression on his face, they must have been grand ones. Thus matters stood when the day dawned upon which the marriage was to occur. Everything was bustle and confusion at the home of the Remsens. The bridesmaids arrived early, helped to deck the bride, and then stood around in delighted admiration. Dora was in •cstacies. Two magnificent bouquets had been sent to her, one entirely of carnation pinks, from Mr Randolph, and the other a fine assortment of cut-flowers, amongst which -were three beautiful Calla lillies, tied with long white satin ribbons. These were the gift of Mr Thauret. She stood admiring the flowers for a few moments, -then tenderly untied the pinks, and, taking a few of each colour, made a small bouquet, which she pinned just at the opening of her dress, near the throat. They were near enough to exhale a fragrance of which she would be continually conscious. Just before leaving the house, however, she took the Callas and carried them with her in her gloved hand. Before the day was over a little tragedy occurred, of which she was not only innocent, but unconscious. In the church her pinks were swept from her breast, and in her excitement she did not observe her loss. Mr Randolph, however, the groom’s best man, noted carefully that she carried flowers, and they were not his. Subsequently she, in reply to a question from him, admitted who had sent them, and though he made no remark, he slept little that night. Thus easily men suffer. Emily was dressed—but there, why should I attempt to describe what

only a Worth could have , furnished, and duly ’wealth could afford ? If you can imagine the most beautiful shade and quality of pearl-coloured silk, and add to that the finest of lace, and to that the most marvellous profusion of tiny bows, then, as I hinted, recall that the genius of Worth designed the garment, perhaps you will imagine all that I could tell you. At least I may say that as the bride entered the church on the arm of that magnificent man, Mr Van Rawlston, who, as her father’s dearest friend, had been invited to take his place, every woman present took one look at the woman and her gown, and turned to her neighbour to express her admiration. Moreover, I will say that the sum of all that praise was not enough for Emily Remsen, who looked every inch a ‘ royal queen,’ as Dora delightedly told everyone for years afterward.

But after the bridal party had passed, people naturally looked for the groom, and they wondered not to see him. Whispering occurred, and inquiries were made without satisfactory response. Some thought that there had been a mistake, and that the signal had been given to the bride and her friends too soon. It was an awkward situation, because once having reached the altar, they could not turn and leave the church again. Consequently they simply stood and waited. Every one at length grew so nervous, that save for the organ, there gradually stole over the whole edifice a solemn silence. People were awed, and fearing at last as tlie minutes passed and still the groom did not appear, that something dreadful either had or was about to occur, they almost held their breaths. A few intimate friends went out on tip-toe, but the door leading to the vestry-room was guarded by a man in livery, who would say nothing but that no one could be admitted. Meanwhile an exciting scene, though a brief one, was being enacted behind that door. Just as the two parties were about to start on their w r ay to the altar, a carriage had driven up furiously, and from it had alighted Mr Barnes. He quickly entered the building, and went straightway into the vestry-room, brushing aside the man at the door. Once in the presence of the groom and his gentleman attendants, he astonished them by saying: ‘ Thank God, I am not too late.’ ‘ Are you quite sure ?’ said Mr Mitchel, with provoking calmness. ‘ I have come here to stop this wedding,’ said the detective, a little excited. ‘ You mean, to delay- it. That you are doing now, as I should be on my way to the altar to join my bride.’ ‘ I tell you, I come to atop this wedding altogether, and ’ ‘ One moment, Mr Barnes. There is no time to lose, and I do not wish to speak too openly. Let me talk for you. You have reasons, which I can guess, for wishing me not to be married. Am I right ?’ ‘ I have said as much.’ ‘ If I can prove to ypu that you gain nothing by hindering this ceremony, will you allow it to proceed, and then act as you may please afterward, instead of now ?’ ‘ Of course, but that is impossible.’ ‘ Hothing is impossible, Mr Barnes ; read that, if you please.’ Taking from his pocket a folded paper, he handed it to Mr Barnes, who took it nervously, read it, and looked up amazed. ‘ This is an outrage, Mr Mitchel, and ’

‘ And you have given me your word not to further interfere at this time. If you will meet me at my hotel at two o’clock, I will answer whatever other demands you may have upon me. I think you know that you may trust me to keep the engagement. Now, gentlemen, we will proceed.’ Saying which he and his friends filed out of the room and down the aisle of the church, much to the relief of the immense throng awaiting them, leaving Mr Barnes utterly discomfited. The ceremony then proceeded without delay, and in half-an-hour Mr and Mrs Leroy Mitchel were taken in

their carriage to the Fifth AvenueHotel. Mr Barnes did not wait to see them leave the Cathedral, but hurried away almost immediately after hav-ing-read the document which Mr Mitcbel had handed to him. This was a certificate of marriage dated the day before, and performed at the Mayor’s, office. Thus, whatever reason thedetective had for for stopping the marriage, the telegram from Sefton had enabled Mr Mitchel to once more outwit Mr Barnes, by simply allowing a civil contract to antecede a religious, ceremony. CHAPTER XV. MU MITCH 15L EXPLAINS A PKW THINGS*. Immediately upon his arrival in New York, Mr Bames went to his office. Here he was slightly surprised to find Lucette. ‘Well,’ said he, tersely. ‘ I came here,’ said the girl, “so that I could report to you the minuto you got here. There is no time tolose.

‘ Why, what is up ?’ ‘ Your plan about my getting information from the East Orange postoffice did not work. The man said that though he would like to serve you, he was afraid it might be construed into tarn pering with the mails. That you would need an order from the Postmaster-General. I went towork then on the other line, and began a systematic examination of every house in the place. It was hard work, but at last I found the child. You don’t want details now, because she has been taken away again. Mitch el went down yesterday and brought her to New York.’ ‘ Why did you not follow him and see where he took her ?’ ‘ I did, and this time I am sure he did not suspect that I was after him. He took the child to the Remsens.’ ‘To the Remsens P What can that mean ?’ ‘ I don’t know. But Mitchel and Miss Remsen are to be married at St, Patrick’s Cathedral at 10 o’clock This morning.’ “ Not if I can stop it,’ replied the detective, and he hastened up to the church, with the result told in the last chapter. Promptly at 2 o’clock Mr Barnes presented himself at the Pifth Avenue Hotel accompanied by Mr Neuilly. They were asked to go up to Mr Mitchel’s apartments, and there they were greeted by that gentleman as affably |as though they had been of his wedding party. Indeed, he began the conversation in rather a jocular way, saying : ‘Ah ! Mr Barnes, delighted that now I can entertain Jyou more at my leisure. This morning you see I was in a great hurry. You called at a very inopportune time, and I am afraid that I was rather abrupt.’

Mr Mitchel, I am not in the humour for nonsense. This is a veryserious visit, I assure you. This gentleman is Mr Weuilly, of New Orleans, and he has come all this distance to aid the cause of justice.’ ‘ Delighted to meet you, Mr Neuilly, I am sure,’ said Mr Mitchel approaching and extending his hand so cordially that the elder man took it, though he had thought that he ■would rather hot coals than the hand of the man who he supposed was guilty of wronging the daughter of his old friend in the South. Mr Mitchel did not seem to notice his agitation, but begging them to be seated, he himself took a comfortable chair 'and continued : “ Wow, Mr Barnes, I am wondering if it is possible that you have traced my wife’s ruby as far away as Wew Orleans ?’ “ I have not been looking for it. I suppose you know why I wished to stop your marriage ?’ ‘Why, no; not ’precisely. What was your reason P’ ‘lf you do not know it, why did you get married yesterday ?’ ‘ I might reply that it is often done, but I will be honest and tell you that such a procedure never occurred to me till I heard that you were coming home. Then, you see, I thought

that you might take the idea into your head —you do get odd notions, you must admit — that I ought not to get married just now. I knew you well enough to believe that if you did harbour a thought of that nature you would not hesitate to interfere. I did you no injustice there, for that is just what you tried to do, you see. Consequently, as I had set my heart on being married in the Cathedral precisely at the time appointed, X just took the bull by the horns and persuaded any little" girl to marry me yesterday. That is my story in full, I assure you. Now, what was your object ? ‘You know it very well, and all this yarning is pure bluster. You know well enough that I wanted to use Miss Emily Kemsen as a witness against you, and that I could not do so after she became Mrs Mitch el.’ ‘ Oh ! Well, yes ; I admit that idea was in my mind, Mr Barnes. And now —what are you going to do about it ?’ ‘ In the first place I shall arrest you for abducting the child, who was in the care of Rose Montalbon.’ Mr Barnes expected some from his adversary, but he was disappointed. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘and then?’ ‘ Then I shall compel you, through the court, to reveal her present hid-ing-place, and to produce her.’ ‘ I think you might have trouble to do that, were it not that I do not object to it. In fact we will reverse your order of things and begin with the production of the child. Emily !’ In answer to his call, his wife came into the room, bringing with her a beautiful girl. Pier husband rose, and taking the little one by the hand, coolly approached Mr Neuilly, and said, ‘ Rose, this is Mr Neuilly. He was a dear good friend to your mother, and has come all the way from New Orleans to see you. I think lie would like to kiss you, would you not, Mr Nenilly ?’ That gentleman seemed much moved. To him the vision of loveliness standing demurely before him, brought back the memory of the long ago. She reminded him of another little girl whose growth into budding womanhood he had watched tenderly, having in his youth loved her mother, the grandparent of the child before him. His suit bad not been successful, and for love of that woman he had remained a bachelor all his days Now he could see changing expressions in this young face, which reminded him of both of those women who had been dear to him. Without a word, he drew her towards him, and kissed her once. Then he arose, still holding her hand, and led her towards the door of the next room ; there he kissed her once more, this time on the forehead, and then bade her -wait, shutting the door after she left him. Then turning with a fury in his heart, and repressed passion in Ids voice, he exclaimed : ‘Mr Mitchel. either 3-011 are the most contemptible villain on the face of the earth, or else there is some mistake somewhere. Explain it, man. I must know at once I’ ‘Mast, Mr NeuiiJy, is a word that I seldom obey. But I know how you have suffered, and have no desire to prolong this interview a moment more than is absolutely necessary. First, however, I must understand the situation. What do you and Mr Barnes here think of it ?’ ‘ I will explain briefly,’ said the detective, ‘provided your wife will withdraw. ‘ Mv wife is now part of myself,’ said Mr Mitcheh proudly placing an arm around her as she stood beside him. 1 You need not hesitate to speak. She has promised to share her life with me. to take rue as I am. She will begin the task at once. Go on.’ ‘ So be it. I know now that-lio.se Mitchel, who was murdered, was known in New Orleans as Bose Montalbon, and that she was your wife. J have also discovered that yon deceived a young Creole, the mother of that child who has just left us. That when von deserted her she died broken hearted, while you allowed the Mon-

talbon woman to take the girl and pass it off as her own, though later, she was kidnapped by you. The woman suspected that you g would wish to marry again, and swore to prevent it. Her appearance upon the scene just as you were to become a husband must have been a menace to you. Do you see the point ? Murders have been committed with less motive. I think, therefore, that I have sufficient evidence upon which to arrest you.’ ‘ You might arrest me upon less evidence,’ said Mr Mitchel. ‘ It is done every day. • But to convict me you would have to prove all this.’ ‘ How do you know that I cannot prove it ?’ ‘ For the very simple reason that your facts are all wrong.’ ‘Very good, Mr Mitchel, but you will have to prove that.’ ‘ I am fully prepared to do so. To begin with, according to your story, I abducted this child. There you are only partly right. I did take her away from the Montalbon, and 1 did it, as you say, by stealth and force. But I had the fullest right to do so.’ ‘You admit, then, that you are her father ?’ ‘ On the contrary, I deny it, and there is the weak point in your story. You argument all depends upon my having been guilty of wronging that girl’s mother, and the Montalbon’s having me in her power. In point of fact 1 am not her father, and the Montalbon had but a slim chance to blackmail me.’ ‘ But you admitted to me that you allowed her to do so. Thatjjyou gave her a large amount in jewels.’ ‘ That is true, yet I did not submit to blackmail.’ ‘ Mr Mitchel, I seldom forget a man’s words. Yon told me that day in the vaults that you were in the woman’s power, that she could ventilate certain scandals which might break your engagement. Yet now you say yon were not in her power, and that you did not submit to blackmail. How can you explain such conflicting statements ?’ ‘ Two conflicting statements may both be true, provided a lapse of time occurs between them. When I admitted that I had been in the power of that woman, I thought so, therefore I spoke the truth, When I say now that I was not, I also speak truly. In the interval I have learned to appreciate the character of the woman who is now my wife. That is all. I know now that the Montalbon’s story blazoned forth to the world would not have affected her faith in me if I had told her my own version.’ ‘ For heaven’s sake, gentlemen,’ interrupted Mr Neuilly, ‘ stop this argument, and get] down to the facts. I am impatient to know the truth.’ ‘ Yes, Roy,’ said Emily, ‘ why not simply tell the story as a narrative, and let the whole truth be known ?’ ‘ That is what I mean to do I have only been enjoying a little sparring with Mr Barnes. But it is cruel to Mr Neuilly, who I hope will pardon me. To begin at the beginning, I must go back to in New Orleans. I was in love with a beautiful young’ girl.’ Here he pressed his wife’s hand, and she returned it, as though to say that she understood. ‘ I think I need not mention the name of Rose’s mother, Mr Neuilly, unless you have already done so.’ ‘ Heaven forbid that I should ha.ve betrayed the secret,’ said the old man. ‘ 1 did not suppose that you had, for I know you to be a true man, though I have never met you before. This statement may surprise you, but it is true. I am not the man for whom you take me. He is now in a lunatic asylum, whilst I am his cousin. I know it is supposed that I am the crazy man, but that is an error, promulgated by the Montalbon to serve her own ends. The facts then are thus : Whilst ahoy at school I loved my girl companion, little Rose’s mother. Just before I left the South to enter Harvard, I told my little girl sweetheart —she was then but fifteen —that I would marry her upon my return. This was my first love, and hers. I had a cousin,

older than myself by ten years, handsome and but a gambler, and addicted to heavy drinking 1 . This woman Mental bon, as you know, kept a gambling den and naturally my unfortunate cousin was a constant visitor at the house. One night whilst completely intoxicated with wine, she persuaded him to marry her, a clergyman being called in and a ceremony privately performed. He became entirely sober only after several days had passed, and then had entirely forgotten about the marriage. The scheming devil, Montalbon, did not remind him of it, but by patient work insidiously persuaded him that he should be a married man. She even suggested a bride, none other than my little sweetheart. Her object in this was twofold, money and revenge. By leading my cousin into a- bigamous alliance, with her own marriage Certificate as a weapon, she could readily extort money from him. Her revenge was to be against the family of my little sweetheart, against whom she thought she had a grievance. Her plotting was entirely successful. My cousin was handsome, I was away, and once he had become thoroughly acquaintedwith the young Creole’s charms, he became so ardent a suitor, that at length she listened to his pleading and married him. Then he was in the power of the Montalbon, and she bled him for five years, by which time little Rose had been born. ‘ Meanwhile I had completed my college career, but had not returned to New Orleans because of my deep disappointment upon learning that my sweetheart had married another man. At this time I was in Paris, when one day I received a piteous letter from the girl-wife telling me that the blow had fallen, that the Montalbon had pr oduced her marriage certificate and claimed her husband, thus dishonoring the daughter of her enemy. The letter also begged my forgiveness for the wrong done to me. J read between the lines and recognised the cry of a broken heart, the bleat of a lamb left to die on the frozen plain. I hurried home but with one thought uppermost, to have revenge upon my cousin. I arrived too late. Not only was the girl dead, but my cousin had disappeared. “ I heard that he had gone out West, and thither I followed him. I would get track of him from time to time, but it seemed fated always that he should have just left a place when 1 confidently expected to come up with him. Thus five years passed, and at last I did meet him. I at once charged him with his crime, and asked for revenge. He laughed at me and refused to fight. I then warned him that I should take his life at the first chance that offered, when I could do so either under seeming provocation, or else where I could not be suspected.’ ‘ Are you not admitting,’ interrupted Mr Barnes, ‘ that you harbored a murderous spirit ? ’ ‘ Mr Barnes, if all men were punished for their thoughts, the criminal class would be greatly enlarged. You cannot call me to account for anything except my acts. At last my chance came. I followed him one dark night as he went off prospecting in an entirely new direction; we were in a mining country. He tramped most of the nig’ht, and I pursued. By dawn we were miles away from a habitation. I then made myself known to him, and once more asked him to fight it out. He saw that I was in earnest, and that he was simply compelled to battle for his life. Under these circumstances of course he fought, as the worst coward must do, when driven to desperation. He decided to use jnstols, though I wished to try our cause with knives. I confess that I wanted the satisfaction of stabbing him again and again. I wanted to see his life’s blood flow at each stroke. It seemed to me tame to stand off at a distance and send one little leaden ball in his direction. Still I admitted his right of choice, and determined to aim as accurately as possible and to send my bullet straight. You see I did not

think of my own life. I. had madethis vengeance my one object, and after accomplishing that, I thought there would be nothing more for me to do. Consequently I expected to kill him easily, and I did not care if his bullet found my heart or not. Perhaps I hoped it would. Just aa we were standing up and preparing to fight, something occurred that almost completely unnerved me, and changed the whole result. He lowered hia pistol and said : ‘Wait a moment; I have a favour to ask. I feel certain that you will kill me. You have been seeking my life so long, that I am sure you will get it. It is fate. But I too have Suffered in the last five years. The favour that I ask is, that if I die you will promise to get my child out of that fiend’s clutches. ‘Yourchild,’ I gasped. I thought it died.’ ‘ That was the Montalbon’s lie* The little girl lived, and she took it. I have made a will in favour of my child, leaving her all my wealth ; you will find it in my coat. Oddly enough, I named you as executor. I knew that you had loved the mothe,. though, as God W r judge, I did not know it when Ita aried her. But I am ready if you are.’ ‘ Thus we stood np and fired at each other. The startling news just received made my aim bad, for instead of hitting him in the heart, as 1 could easily have done, my bullet struck him in the head. He fell, and P rushed towards him, to discover whether he was badly hurt. He whs bleeding profusely, and I hastily bandaged up the wound, and so stopped the flow of blood. I then went on to the next mining camp beyond. We returned with a litter, and took him back. There was a man amongst us who claimed that he had studied medicine, and he attended my cousin. He removed the bullet, and found that the wound was not very deep, but the skull was fractured. He was ill for two months, and then slowly recovered his health. But his reason was entirely gone. 1 took him to New Orleans and placed him in an asylum, and there he has been ever since.’ ‘ Very good, Mr Mitchel,’ said Mi* Barnes. ‘ But what proof have you that you are not the father, and the lunatic the Innocent cousin, as so many believe ? ’ (To be continued.)